


Sweat for It

by Island_of_Reil



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: F/M, Hot Weather, Hypersensitivity, Multiple Orgasms, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Praise Kink, Soreness, Sweat, Thunder and Lightning, Thunderstorms, Topping from the Bottom, Woman on Top
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-12
Updated: 2014-04-12
Packaged: 2018-01-19 02:24:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1452007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Island_of_Reil/pseuds/Island_of_Reil
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>"You can mow down titans like the Grim Fucking Reaper, you can ride me just a little longer."</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sweat for It

**Author's Note:**

> [Kinkmeme prompt.](http://snkkink.dreamwidth.org/8414.html?thread=7666654#cmt7666654) Thanks to the OP for inspiring it. This isn't beta'ed so any errors are mine.

He thinks, not for the first time, that she fucks like she fights. Her teeth are bared; her eyes are suns. Each of her movements is purposeful and controlled, advancing her toward one and only one goal. She grips his cock inside her like her hands grip the hilts of her blades in battle.

Levi's on his back, knees drawn up halfway and Petra's feet hooked beneath them. Her fingernails dig into his shoulders; her sweat-soaked hair falls in a curtain around her head. The heat wave is breaking beneath a storm that drives fists of rain into the panes of the tightly latched casement, but his rooms remain stifling, and the sheets are drenched.

For once he doesn't give a damn. They haven't fucked in three weeks. Three sweaty, itchy, stinking weeks, the air nearly everywhere like wet flannel in the lungs, the air around the titans like that in a furnace. Three weeks in which all of them could barely stand the presence, let alone the touch, of another human being.

He can stand it now, and so can she.

Petra grinds forward, a single, hard motion. Suddenly she stops in mid-thrust, and her body jerks hard, forward and backward, droplets of sweat flying outward. She lets out a sharp cry, almost a yelp, as she turns a dark pink from forehead to belly and spasms around him.

"Oh, fuck _yes,_ Petra," Levi rasps. "Keep going. That's an order."

She flashes him the briefest of grins as she arches back, then bears down again, driving her clitoris against his pubic bone. He reaches up to cup her sweat-slickened breasts, flicks a drop off the end of one nipple before tugging both between his fingertips. For long, tortuous minutes she works her body forward and backward over him, slow and deliberate, serpentine. Her cunt pulls so hard at him he can imagine his balls disappearing inside her.

She goes rigid a second time. A lightning bolt sears both of them and the room around them white; in its wake her flesh is scarlet under its sheen of sweat. She forces out a long, rattling _uunnnngghhhh_ from between her teeth, and she sags a little in release.

"Fucking hell," Levi hisses. He's close enough to come himself, now, but he has other plans for her. "I could watch you do that over and over." He grabs her by the hips. "In fact, I think I'll watch you do it again right now."

Petra's moan is lost in a cannonlike crack of thunder. 

Her eyes are no longer fierce, merely wild. When she leans forward this time she drops her head to seize his lips, one hand tangling in his damp hair. Her tongue probes in rhythm with her thrusts; he lashes his own into her mouth. The kiss ends in a fury of sharp nips and an obscenely wet smack.

Guiding her with his hands on her hips, Levi pushes her as far backward as he can reach, then draws her forward again, making her fuck herself on him. Through her teeth she half-pants, half-sobs, and lets him move her as he will. He shuts his eyes; he can last through the feel of her clenching and contracting around him, but not if he's watching her face at the same time.

When she comes the third time she jerks with tremors that are counterpointed by a stuttered wail, lightning shimmering on the twitching muscles in her arms and torso. Her cunt muscles curl and twist and pull on him until he thinks about imagining titans just to hold his own climax back. Finally they slacken, fluttering, and her head drops forward on her neck as another thunderclap deafens them. She remains seated on him, shuddering and flushing, before she grasps his shoulders again with the intention of dismounting.

Levi shakes his head and grips her hips more tightly. "One more."

Petra groans. "Can't."

"Yes, you _can_." Somehow he's become fixed on the idea that he can't, and therefore won't, come until he's wrung her completely empty and dry. He almost can't believe he's lasted this long.

She pushes irritably at his hands. "I'm sore, Levi. Let go of me."

His nails dig into her. "No. You can mow down titans like the Grim Fucking Reaper, you can ride me just a little longer." He does take his right hand off her left hip, but only to reach over to the night table. He grabs the little flask of oil there, palm over the opening, and gives it a quarter-turn to spill some of it out.

His slickened finger glistens in another flash of lightning before he insinuates it between their bodies and into her, alongside his cock. She makes a strangled sound. Her flesh around his is as scalding as the innards of a titan, pulsing with hypersensitivity. He withdraws the finger, then crooks the tip and moves it upward to anoint her clitoris. She twitches and whimpers, seeking the stimulation even as she recoils from it. It becomes a meter of sorts, made of the pressing of sensation upon her, then the pulling back to give her the space to recover. Somewhere amidst it is another burst of thunder, more distant this time.

She accelerates the tempo on her own. Once her hips are moving faster than his finger, he seizes the left one again and thrusts upward, fucking into her for the first time instead of letting her take him. She digs her toes into the hollows of his knees and bears down with a vengeance to meet him.

Fire has begun coiling tight and deep in his balls, shooting taut scorching lines down through his thighs and up into his belly, but he holds, he holds, until she begins to shake. In her fourth orgasm there is none of the tight control and grace of her first: She is unstrung, joints and muscles and nerves, literally taken apart in his hands and on his cock.

She's just barely gone limp with a noise too incoherent to be named when he himself groans, long and guttural, and, holding her tight to his groin, begins to spurt forcefully into her. Long seconds of nothing in the world except the wrenching pleasure of a seemingly endless orgasm, soft hot engorged flesh around him that's gone half-dry, animal grunts and ragged gasps from them both, his own come dripping out of her and catching in his pubic hair, sweat running off every damn part of them.

She doesn't so much roll as flip her body off his to lie centimeters away from him, flat and inert. As their breathing evens out, Levi can hear the rain again; it's still falling, but now only vertically.

"I'll open the window," Petra says hoarsely. When he doesn't respond she takes that as assent and gets up. He turns his head to watch her move, loose and fluid, her round-muscled ass and the deep hollow above it undulating with her stride. She rises on tiptoe to unlatch the casement, then fling the panes open. It's dropped at least fifteen degrees outside, and the breeze is sharp on their sweaty skin.

She looks back at him. "Bath?"

"Bath," he grunts, pushing himself up from the sheets. Those, he thinks, are going to be changed in the next hour, and the window is going to stay open all night. He stinks, she stinks, the room stinks, he's scowling with distaste, and he hasn't been this pleased in three weeks.


End file.
